Dramatis personae
by Hermes Liar
Summary: The weight of this sad time we must obey; Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say. Edmund can't bear it anymore.


Something I came up with while I was sitting through Shakespeare class.

Disclaimer: King Lear belongs to Bill Shakes; I had nothing to do with it.

* * *

Narrator (a stand in for Shakespeare if you like): as the creator in which

_Edmund: as the creation in which_

**The Words of William Shakespeare himself**

"**The weight of this sad time we must obey;**

**Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.**

**The oldest hath borne most; we that are young**

**Shall never see so much, nor live so long."**

**Is not this your son, my lord?**

**His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge. I have so often blushed to acknowledge him, that now I am brazed to it.**

_Stop._

**I cannot conceive you.**

_Stop._

…

_Thank you. I will only take a minute of your time. I know this is a bit unconventional but I feel that we are in need of some change. _

What are you doing? Why has everyone stopped? What did you do to them?

_Ah, welcome. I thought you might show up. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the man behind the curtain. What, no applause?_

(No response from the frozen audience.)

_No matter._

Edmund, what have you done?

_I've stopped the show. That should be obvious._

Yes, but why?

_I'm done. I can't do this anymore._

Can't do King Lear? You can't simply stop doing King Lear in the middle of a performance.

_I said I'm finished. Done. Exiting stage left._

What do you propose to do?

_Anything but this._

You can't not do the show Edmund.

_**Wherefore should I stand in the plague of custom, and permit the curiosity of nations to deprive me?**_

Very funny. Now start the play again.

_Why?_

I beg your pardon?

_Why should I continue? I'm through with this dog and pony show. Night after night it is the same story over and over and over. I'm tired of dying at my brother's hand and having to do it all over again a few hours later. Four hundred years and you'd think they would have had enough._

Edmund, you don't exist outside of this show. There can be no "exiting stage left" as you said, except within the limits of the play.

_I defy augury._

Wrong play.

_Then I will simply have to change the story._

I'll change it back. But let's suppose that you can change the story; where would you begin?

_When Albany challenges me to a duel and Edgar comes in disguise. _

A fine place to start. Go on, what would you change?

_I think this pause in action will give me the opportunity to tell them how to free Cordelia and thereby prevent the duel that ends in my death._

Suppose Edgar saves Cordelia and the King but comes back to kill you anyway? He's there for revenge not for Cordelia.

_I could escape._

You are caught.

_I make Albany promise not to let Edgar kill me in exchange for my information on Cordelia and King Lear's imprisonment._

The freed Lear tries you for treason and you are executed midday before a crowd of hundreds.

_I'll stay abroad. I refuse to return to England when my father summons me after nine years._

Your father will die of a broken heart; you know this to be true. To him, it doesn't matter which son it is, he will feel it most keenly. Edgar will demand your return and knowing your nature my good sir, the two of you will quarrel. And you will still die at Edgar's hand.

_Alright, so I will return when Gloucester summons me. But I will leave straight off as I was supposed to do._

So you could suffer through that humiliating conversation about your conception and still be able to leave without taking revenge on those who treat you unfairly?

_It is hard to listen to that conversation after nine years of being out from under my brother's shadow. _

Gives your ego a bit of a poke does it not?

_But knowing that if I stay I will most certainly die is motivation enough to ignore the injustice. My life before my pride._

I see. Well even if you do decide to leave the King will still divide up his land and Goneril and Regan will still degrade their father.

_And?_

Well, Reagan could convince Cornwall to lead the forces against the King. Without you in the way Cornwall wouldn't die of a stab wound from a servant loyal to your father. Cornwall would take over your role.

_So Lear and Cordelia must still die in the end._

Unlike you, Cornwall will feel no remorse for his actions.

_So Cornwall wins?_

No. He dies at the hands of your brother in your place.

_And Goneril and Regan?_

Will fight over Cornwall. Goneril will poison Regan who has the distinct advantage of already being married to Cornwall. Albany will confront Goneril with the intercepted love letter and she will, as always, commit suicide. The tragedy will end the same.

_But I survive. I don't die in that duel._

No I suppose you don't. Does that fix things? Make you feel like you have won?

_Maybe._

You would effectively cease to exist. Ah, that gets a reaction.

_I've left myself in the show just enough so that wouldn't happen._

No one will remember you.

_I'm there at the beginning. Someone might._

Doubtful. You understand that Hamlet was on to something when he asked to have his story told. You're a rational man, think about it. If no one remembers you – and they won't because you would be just a blip in the prologue to the story – there is nothing there to sustain your existence. Does that sound like success to you? Barely surviving on the fringes of the play you once dominated?

_Why are you doing this?_

Why are you?

_I thought I wanted more than this. I do want more than this. It's all completely meaningless if I can never change._

It isn't meaningless for them.

_Them? Look at them. Half of them don't care what's going on. See, those students over there are either asleep or on their mobiles. And you want me to do it for them?_

You have before.

_What if I save Cordelia? I'll be one of the white hats. Let Cornwall be the villain. I'll fight beside my brother and ignore the degradations from society and protect Cordelia and the King from all enemies._

Are we back to this?

_I don't want to die. I don't want to be forgotten. _

I should have guessed.

_I beg your pardon?_

This isn't about survival for you, although it's a good cover for your actions. You see yourself as the man of rational thought, at least compared to the others onstage. How could you not be seen as the voice of reason when the other contenders are the raving Lear and the tricked, naïve Edgar? When we first meet you, we are presented with the notion that we must think logically to see things for what they are. A bastard can have the same worth as the legitimate child. But you, in the guise of your logic, want to **top th' legitimate** and claim the supremacy of the illegitimate child. You are more sentimental than the others give you credit for and certainly more than you give yourself credit for.

_I'm not emotional. Do I seem emotional to you?_

You play upon people's emotions so easily because you understand them. You desire the recognition from others that you have equal worth to your brother. A reasonable desire but ultimately an emotionally driven one. Unlike the morally empty Cornwall, you know that the pain and injustice you feel are emotions also shared by your neighbors. You demonstrate the merest hint of this knowledge when you agree with Edgar after the duel. You could have let Cordelia go to the grave without ever sending anyone to save her and it wouldn't have changed your fate. But instead you exhibit a sliver of compassion.

_No._

I understand what you are doing. Seeing the consequences of your actions played out repeatedly for hundreds of years would only sharpen your underused morality to the point where you couldn't stand to continue, not because you knew logically that changing the story would potentially guarantee your survival but because you couldn't handle creating the suffering of others one more time. It took you a long time but Edmund, you finally grew a heart. Only that doesn't fit the image of you that the world has cultivated, hence the need for a self-centered guise.

_**Some good I mean to do, despite of mine own nature.**_

Then I am truly sorry.

_What for?_

I can't let you save her.

_Why?_

Because that isn't my story.

_Not your story? So that's it then? _

As I said, I'm sorry.

_How is that fair? I finally try to do something good, really good, and all I get is a whole heap of nothing in return. It's your fault. You wrote me. You incorporated that tiny seed of empathy and left it there to be watered. I would have been completely content without any morals at all. As it is, I can't endure another minute. You had to know that this would happen._

What, that my characters would become bigger than the story they inhabit?

_Exactly._

I didn't really dare to hope.

_Well that's just irresponsible storytelling._

Be that as it may, this story can't be changed. Think of all the people who are inspired by it. If I change the story, or if you change the story, or if anyone changes the story who knows if it would have the same impact. I have to consider them before you. I did all of this for them.

_If we are bigger than the story aren't we still going to have the same impact even if you give us a new story to inhabit?_

I don't know.

_So the reason you aren't going to even try to help me is because you're scared of the result?_

Yes.

_Take a chance. Please. I'm so tired. We're all so tired. More than you could ever know. I trust in your ability. Look what happened the first time around, four hundred years and people are still talking about it. _

Yes and what if they all stop when I do write all of you into something different?

_This version won't go away simply because you write something new. We're locked inside the collective conscious so tight I don't think even you could remove us if you tried. You wouldn't need to publish the new story, just give us somewhere we can escape to when it all gets to be too much. Please. I know that I can get through your precious drama if I know we're all safely contained inside another story outside of this one._

Okay. As long as you promise to continue to play out this tragedy, I will write a new version for you.

_You're serious?_

God help me, yes.

_I have some suggestions._

I thought you might. But first, the play. We can all figure this out afterwards.

_Thank you. __**Thou hast spoken right, 'tis true; the wheel is come full circle! I am here.**_


End file.
